


Right Across Yours

by LenaLuthorOwnsMe



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Character study on Lena Luthor, F/F, I Don't Even Know, I think they'll fall in love eventually, Lena Luthor Has a Crush on Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor is an insomniac, Mention of Domestic Violence, Mention of Monel somewhere, Muse!Kara, Writer!Lena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 18:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15149306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenaLuthorOwnsMe/pseuds/LenaLuthorOwnsMe
Summary: Just a one shot! It's been a while since I posted one. The idea of writer Lena and muse Kara didn't leave. Enjoy! Tell me about your thoughts!





	Right Across Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Just a one shot! It's been a while since I posted one. The idea of writer Lena and muse Kara didn't leave. Enjoy! Tell me about your thoughts!

When I was six my adoptive mother told me that whenever I feel like I am not feeling sleepy when midnight comes, I should start counting sheep, until I reach one hundred. She said somewhere in the middle of counting I'd feel sleepy and will eventually fall asleep.

So one time I waited for midnight just to prove if my mother's right, I secretly drank a portion of my father's brewed coffee on my milk cup. So maybe you can already guess what happened, if not here's what happened, when my night stand rocket shaped alarm clock struck 12:00 I stared at the glow in the dark stars and planets taped on my room's ceiling and started counting.

I counted. And as I count my really vivid imagination, started imagining the sheep grazing in the the grasses of New Zealand, I even thought of a story, that they're happily jumping over the fence to the other greener side. Every one of them gleefully jumped over the fence, I counted and by the time I reached one hundred I blinked back to reality and when I looked at my clock it was already two in the morning.

My body started to shake, as my heart pounded so hard against my chest, I got scared, I thought I lost count that's why my heart's pumping more amount of blood my small six year old body needed.

I ran to my parents room and knocked hard, and my father swung the door open, towered over me and asked what the hell I was thinking.

 

"I think I lost count. My heart is beating so fast I'm suffocating." I cried

 

My mother immediately found her place beside me on the couch while my father made me milk. That's when I learned about the word palpitations and caffeine or maybe I was just overthinking. He didn't notice that his 1.5 liters of brewed coffee was .5 liter less, and I was thankful.

My father was the one to put me back to bed, while my mom nursed Lex my younger brother. He told me scary stories to force me to sleep, he said the monster under my bed would creep up to me and take my eyes because I won't shut it. He said if I don't sleep by nine in the evening I'll never grow as tall as he is. He even told me that if I don't sleep at all I'll go crazy and they'll lock me up in some mental ward.

But I never believed him. Not one of those story he made up. I waited for the monster under my bed to gnaw on my eyes until four in the morning. But no monster came. I even imagined fighting the monster if it ever creep up on my bed, I have a Swiss knife under my pillow, I was prepared. But it never came. There was no monster under my bed.

Unlike what my father warned me, I grew to be a normal teenager with a normal adolescent height. By the time I was thirteen, I have the worst body clock there is. My school finishes at four and I'd be home by four-thirty since I can walk from our house to my school.

I'd change into something comfortable, play one of my father's records and lie on the sofa until I fall asleep. Because it was when I feel really sleepy. I'd usually wake up by the time my mom and dad would come in from work, which is around seven or eight, mom would ask me to get Lex from grandma who lives three blocks away from us then we'd eat dinner and watch TV and by ten they'll go upstairs to sleep, while I always offered to secure the doors and windows just so I could watch more TV.

I've lived like that until it was time for me to go to college and move into a dormitory, I was ecstatic because there'll be no one telling me when to sleep or to wake up anymore. I'll just be all by myself and it thrilled me.

I've lived like an owl until I came across the word Insomnia. According to google, Insomnia is the inability to sleep. Sleeplessness. Wakefulness. Restlessness. It is also classified into two, Chronic and Acute. Chronic meaning it can last a long time, and acute meaning it can be short-term.

Well, I don't know which one was I but I didn't care much. I'm an insomniac and I'm thankful for it because it is by midnight when I can think of the best things in life.

I wrote my first contest piece of poetry when I was fifteen, around 12:30am on my phone. And the next thing I knew I was being awarded on the stage, with a medal, a certificate and an envelope of money or gift certificate which I have no memory of using, because I was so caught up with my medal.

I wrote my college essays in three consecutive midnights before the entrance exams. Three different questions, one question for one midnight. And when the results came, the checker might have been really moved by my answer for the question, what the university can do to change my life, because he or she even commented with 'You would be known someday, and it would certainly be an honor if I get to have you in my class. Congratulations.'

I wrote most of my assignments, papers - - reactions, reviews, summaries and even thesis when the clock hits 12:00. No other time but twelve. Until it was time for me to write one of the most important papers in my student life. I wrote my speech for being the batch's only Summa Cum Laude, on the midnight when my bags were already packed and ready to go tomorrow after graduation.

According to science the human brain is most active at the unholy hours of the night. I can't remember why but I agreed to that article. My brain is most active by midnight, but it is too active that I don't know what to do first or where to start, mostly in writing. I'd open my laptop, open a blank document, with all the ideas in my head and when my hands reach for the keyboard the ideas would disappear, all of them. My brain would go blank, the thoughts and ideas shush.

I was already working with a publishing company they have already published my first slim novel. I can still remember when I first held the copy in front of me, I thought I was awesome, I was really awesome. And I was proud of myself. I was. Because that was before. Before my brain stopped producing sensible plots, before my brain stopped building great, soulful sometimes twisted characters, before my brain stopped weaving the perfect lines for an introduction, a middle and a conclusion. That was before. Before insomnia became my mortal enemy.

My friend Sam, once told me, "Lena, go to sleep like a normal person and see what good it'll bring your brain. And maybe you can start writing again. Also while you're at it, lessen drinking beer and puffing cigarette too."

I pushed the door to my first and already shabby independently rented apartment. It's not like I couldn't afford somewhere better, but then I was too lazy to even search for a new place so I've been living here alone for three years now.

It is a one bedroom unit, there's just enough space for every necessities and I'm fine with it. I feel comfortable about my place. I tiredly crash on my leather couch, my father's gift when I moved out of our house. And stared again on the ceiling, it was already ten in the evening.

"I used to be so great at writing, or even just good at it, it should flow right through me. naturally, like the water down the stream or the blood in my veins. But I just don't know what happened."

I pushed myself up, walked towards the kitchen and found the bottle of vodka from last weeks party, took a hit and throw it on the trash. Opened the fridge and took the tub of yogurt and the box of cereals from the cabinet.

I took a sit on the couch again, I left the lights off and turned the TV on. It opened to the season finale of a period drama about. I tried watching, while I eat. I was already hooked when the closing credits suddenly appeared.

 

"What the fuck?"

 

I turned the TV off and the lights on. Washed my bowl and took a shower. After showering I sat on my work table and opened my laptop. And did the same thing I've always done. Do you want to see the only content of the book I am trying to work with? Here's a sneak peak;

 

      _|Sophia is our main character. And Sophia is dead, she committed suicide by jumping in front of the train...|_

 

See what I told you? It's too straight forward and brutal. Sam my editor and best friend told me that once she publishes that introduction no one will read the book.

 

_What is she lives by the end? I countered._

 

_Would she? Sam eyed me with confusion_

 

_No._

 

_See? I'm right.  Sam snickered as she drinks her coffee._

 

_Yes you always are. I agreed._

 

I spun my swivel chair around my room, contemplating whether to scratch that idea and propagate a new one. That'll take maybe another month or so, or work on it, reconstruct it to be readable.

I stopped spinning and stared at my unmade bed, the blinking light of the bedside lamp that I thought I've already replaced, the faded wooden floors, the faint smell of smoke wafting like a fire cloud above my head.

I stopped spinning and noticed all the uncomfortable things I seek refuge too. And a pang of depression hit me. I thought of at least cleaning my unit though, I thought of buying a new mattress, new light bulb and an air freshener and I also thought of having black coffee and lighting a cigarette. And in doubt I chose coffee and cigarettes.

I closed my laptop, walked to the kitchen, made a cup of coffee, snatched my lighter and pack from the center table and walked to my bedroom again. I opened the emergency exit window to the rusty fire exit ladder where my ashtray was. I put my cup beside the ashtray and lit a stick. I took a long drag as I leaned on the rails directly looking towards the high rise condominium building. There were only three windows with the lights on. Maybe they're all asleep since it's almost midnight, that's what rich people do right? Early to bed early to rise. Or that's what normal people do, people who aren't suffering from a writer's block, or insomnia, or isn't smoking and drinking black coffee at 11:40pm. Yeah that's what they do, they sleep.

I took one last hit from the stick before dropping it over the rails, I watched as it hit the car below. My grumpy land lady's car and I smiled in small victory. And then I felt ridiculous, because even in banalities I find amusement.

Do I sound like a hobo already? Well I'm not big with apologies but, hey I'm sorry. I took my already cold cup of coffee and gulped on it. And while I did. I saw movement from one of the lighted windows on the rich people's building.

A figure grow from the translucent curtains, and by the lean built of the figure's body I knew it was a figure of a woman. She was walking towards the bathroom with a towel on one hand. I looked at my half empty cup of coffee while I waited for the woman to finish showering, hoping I get to see her face clearly.

I lit another cigarette and sat on the steps of the exit ladder. There's only one window with the light's on left and that's the window I am looking at. After thirty minutes of showering, the woman came out from the bathroom, wearing her bathrobe while she's drying her hair with a towel. And while she's at it, she pushed her translucent curtain to one side, leaving her exposed. She stood close the window for a few minutes holding her phone on one hand while the other continued to dry her hair.

Her luscious blonde tresses isn't too hard to dry though, maybe she's not aware of my existence either so after drying her hair, she turned around back facing me as she removed her bathrobe. The white cloth dropped from her shoulder and I was so shocked I kicked off my mug, which fall off I heard it hit something below, God knows what.

I look back to the window of the woman and she was already wearing a pullover. She half laid on her bed, back against the headboard as she smiled on her phone. That's only when I noticed her features.

 

She's beautiful.

 

That night I re-read my book for a thousandth time to try and find where I lost it. But for the first time in the series of sleepless nights, my eyes got heavier and heavier until all I can do is let go and rest.

The next morning, my grumpy land lady was outside my door, knocking so hard she almost wreck it. She told me that my mug hit the side mirror of her car and I need to pay for the damages, I frowned and asked her how did she know that it was my mug. She smirked and showed me a part of it the handle with my name on it. And I almost face palmed right in front of her.

I forgot that the only cup I own was given to me by my younger brother who likes to put my name on the things he gives me, which I find adorable actually, but not today.

I asked my land lady to just send me the total of the damage and I'll transfer the amount to her account which silenced her. After that I got ready for work, mainly my meeting with Sam my editor, Lucy the editor-in-chief and James the publishing house owner. So basically the big three. They're my friends actually, we took the same course, went to the same university, only thing is Lucy and James are a thing and Sam is Lucy's cousin.

I meet with them at the publishing house, they're already present when I came in and we just casually talked. James asked about the update of my book right away while Sam and Lucy just studied me.

 

"I can't work with the first plot I presented you." I dropped without holding back.

 

"Why?"

 

"According to Sam, it's too brutal, so far from my first book and that no body would read it. Not unless I have a solid fandom, which I happened to lack as of the moment."

 

"When do you think you can construct another concept? The people need another work from you Lena Luthor. So they can remember you, or start remembering you. You already have one bestseller,  _Weep with the Daisies_ still sells copies nationwide. All you have to do is write another one."

 

"That's the problem, I have so many floating ideas I can't pull and pen down."

 

"What are you aiming for your next story? Romance, happy ending or bitter-sweet tragedy?"

 

"The latter?"

 

"Why don't you fall in love and let yourself get hurt? Maybe that's what's missing from you Lena, you haven't felt real pain."

 

"I can describe a pain of a heartbreak? Vividly."

 

"Of course you can but it wouldn't connect to you as much because you haven't experience it before. Have your heart broken. Once you're able to feel real pain, you would know how to write to be happy or sad or angry."

 

"I guess I could try." I gave in.

 

"Cool. Just update Sam for anything. Just remember you need to have a manuscript by the end of the year so we could start editing. You think you can do it?"

 

"I'll see what I can do."

 

After the meeting I dashed to the home depot, got cleaning materials, a new mattress, a light bulb, and of course, air freshener. After shopping I drove home, when I get to my apartment the invoice from my land lady's side mirror is taped on my door.

 

"Seriously? A grand for that pesky side mirror? This is ridiculous." I took the invoice and opened the door.

 

I deeply sighed at the view of my apartment during the day.

 

"We got some cleaning to do." I said pulling my sleeves up.

 

I hauled the vacuum cleaner my mother bought me last year from the laundry room. I started vacuuming in my room, I removed the paper blinds on the windows and made sure they're crystal clear, I slightly moved my work table from the corner facing the wall to the center facing the window that's directly facing the beautiful woman's window.

I laundered my linens and put the new mattress on the bed frame. The home depot guys helped me get the old one out of my unit so I obliged with a slightly generous tip.

After my bedroom, I moved to the living room, cleaning out stray cans of beer and cigarette butts and while I did I can hear my mom scolding me of how I live like a jobless man. After making sure everything was orderly I moved to the kitchen and bathroom, the least used part of the apartment so the easier to clean. After cleaning I took a shower and put my clothes in the washer.

I fix my bed with freshly dried bed sheets and smiled at how comfortable my new bed looks. I finished my general cleaning around nine in the evening, my stomach churned and I knew it was time to have dinner and since I am already starving instead of driving to some decent restaurant to eat I resorted to cross the street towards the Starbucks beside the high rise condominium. I took my hoodie with me just in case if it's chilly outside.

The strong aroma of coffee assaulted my nostrils as I entered the café. There's a long cue by the counter so I have to wait on the line. I decided to order some grilled cheese and a venti iced americano. I was totally engrossed with the smell of coffee and the jazz music they're playing so my brain started working, it's first thought was the pullover wearing woman I saw last night and I don't even know why.

The guy in the counter announced for two orders successively mine was the last, so I easily made my way towards the counter. I took the tray and swiftly turned and when I did I hit someone with my tray and my americano toppled over hitting her abdomen.

I froze and looked as the cup hit the floor, I slowly looked up to the person I bumped into and with the same surprised expression as mine I realized it was her.  _Ms. Pullover-Wearing-Beautiful-Woman._

 

"Oh my goodness I am so sorry." I said as one of the baristas instantly approach us.

 

"No it's fine, just a little colde." She politely smiled despite the happenstance.

 

"Uhmm here, change into this." I said offering my hoodie. "It's clean, I just washed it." I added when she hesitated.

 

"I know I can still smell your fabric conditioner." She chuckled. "But I'm fine." She kindly declined.

 

"No please I insist. And I won't be able to sleep tonight if you don't take it." I pleaded and she smiled again and shook her head.

 

"Alright, but only because I don't want you to lose sleep tonight." She said as she reached for my hoodie, her hand slightly brushing against mine, almost tickling me.

After that, we move on to our separate ways, she ordered a grande non fat latte and left, while I reordered my coffee and crossed the street to my apartment building again.

I did my routine of staring on the blank document on my laptop that night until the light on the windows facing mine only slightly lower than mine turned on. I closed my laptop and watched, like an ogling lunatic. The woman appeared again in the bedroom window but she's slouching a little bit, her posture tells me that she's sad. She almost drag herself around, she's still wearing the shirt I accidentally ruined with coffee earlier.

She turned the lights in the living room off, leaving one bedside lamp on. She took off her jeans and shirt and tossed them to the hamper. And reached for something from her swivel chair. She put it on and my brain instantly clicked upon seeing it. My hoodie.

She slipped under the covers and looked at her phone sadly, until she wiped a tear on the corner of her eyes. She locked her phone, took a deep breath and reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off.

I shuffled to open my laptop and the blank document prompted itself. I eagerly tapped on the keys without stopping to think I just let it flow like before, like the water on the stream and like blood in my veins, the words came out, like the flood when the dam broke.

 

Do you want a sneak peek? Well here, suit yourself.

 

      _| Her name was Kara, in Irish her name means a friend. But tonight as she cried herself to sleep, and I idle from outside of her world, I knew she's the one who needed one, and I, I am her savior.|_

            

"Hello?"

 

"Sam?"

 

"Lena?"

 

"Are you sleeping?"

 

"What time is it?"

 

"Three in the morning?"

 

"Take a guess."

 

"Right of course, but I wrote something."

 

"Can't it wait till office hours?"

 

"It can but I was just so excited."

 

"What have you wrote about?"

 

"A girl - - I mean no, a woman, a beautiful woman."

 

"Is she dead already?"

 

"What?! Oh - - I mean no. She's not dead."

 

"Good, that's good Lena continue writing, in the morning. Call me again later okay? Please? You should rest too."

 

"Right okay, copy that. Goodnight."

 

"Night."

 

When I was seventeen I had my first crush, my friends thought at first that maybe I was asexual because I just can't find someone to be attracted to. I don't feel any sexual desire to anybody no matter how attractive they are for my friends. Until Ms. Jackson entered our world literature class, she was a French hottie, that's what my friends and me called her back then.

I don't know why but every time she speaks English especially when she reads poetry to the whole class, I get a hard on. Right, that sounds too hetero but that's just my use of words. My insomnia back then heightened because my vivid imagination always falls on Ms. Jackson and her kohl eyes, the thin line of her nose and lips and the gorgeous tousle of her hair.

I'd lie on my bed every night for the whole semester imagining her barging into my room and other things would fall into place. But it never happened. Of course whom am I kidding?

When I learned that she's already getting married at the end of the semester, I wrote my most heart-melting ode to an unrequited love under the title  _An Imaginary Love Affair_  that I submitted to her as my final project, which got me an A+ for her subject and a final exam exemption.

She even told me to stay after class just so she could talk to me. She counseled me about it, telling me I'll eventually find the one for me, I thought she knew she was the person I was talking about but when she said the words _"He'll come by before you know it."_ I nodded, left the room then moved on.

I wasn't big in relationships back when I was student, guys always thought of me as one of the boys so they knew better than hit on me while the girls are only attracted to me because they're envious, and none romantically. So practically you get the idea, I'm a hopeless romantic of some sort.

It was around four in the morning, I just finished my third cup of coffee, and the momentum I had around twelve has already subside and I feel tired. It was like smoking weed or taking a psychedelic drug, after the high you'll plummet faster than getting the high itself.

After saving the twenty-page document on my hard drive, I closed my laptop and collapsed on my bed, the darkness of the night was already starting to fade when I felt sleepy.

I woke up around nine in the morning my phone was ringing and the morning sun was flooding my room so I was forced to get up. I answered the phone, it was Sam asking me about what I wrote last night and I told her that if she wanted to read I'll meet her and she agreed.

I was pulling out of the drive way and to the main road when I saw  _her_ brisk walking down the street to the entrance of her condo. She was wearing her running clothes, fitted hot pink under armor sports bra and complimentary leggings, and sunglasses. Her phone was strapped on her arms and she has her earphones on. Her sweaty bare shoulder glistened when the sun hit it and I already have trouble breathing.

 

"Why do I turn to be more of an ogling lunatic by the day? Jesus I need to check my discretion for that matter." I muttered as I completely rolled out of the main road.

 

I watched her from my rear view mirror, she was still at the entrance of her condo when a guy in his running clothes approached her they kissed and started running together.

 

"Well that escalated quickly. This is surely going to hurt like a bad ass mother - -" I muttered again when my phone vibrated, when I check it was Sam, already telling me to hurry up.

 

"This is good Lee. Classic."

 

"It's not classic Sam, it's a contemporary about a pathetic third person narrator who has feelings for the woman on the other side of the looking glass. Someone she can never touch, reach or talk to."

 

"Still it's heart breaking enough, but the good thing is you save it for the conclusion."

 

"Yeah, exactly."

 

"So who's Kara?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"You heard me."

 

"Uhmm. Someone. A product of my imagination."

 

"Really now. So you're the narrator yourself?"

 

"Kinda?"

 

"You're telling me that this line here - -"

 

"What line?"

 

"Wait let me read it - - you typed here that - -  _The lush of her golden locks is a good source of support as she lapped the other woman down there._ You're telling me that that was nothing but mere product of your imagination?" Sam raised her eyebrow and I know I can never hide anything from my best friend so I told her about everything.

 

"Wow. You're a voyeur. Jesus you're a voyeur Lena Kieran!"

 

"No! It's not like that, it was by accident. I got curious and lingered a little bit."

 

"The second time was your own discretion and you started writing about her! That makes you a voyeur!"

 

"Sam I didn't watch her have sex with anybody, and I only saw her naked once, because I was curious of what she looked like."

 

"And what do you call yourself?"

 

"An author who's going to have a manuscript by the end of the year?"

 

"You know what? To make it a little more interesting? Introduce yourself to her. Get to know her."

 

After my meeting with Sam, I resume to working on my novel; I still don't have a final title for it.

Kara, my subject of interest seems to be straight and that drag me down a little bit but my attraction to her was not wavered. I continued watching her from a far, and writing about her before I go to sleep.

I saw her celebrate her birthday party with her family and the guy she runs with. I knew it was a birthday because there was a cake and she was wearing a party hat. She blew the candles, and the guy kissed her again.

I saw her crying one night, and a woman slightly older than her with auburn colored hair maybe her sister came rushing and they hugged for a long time. Her sister was crying too, I think someone died. Because the morning after that, the guy she's with came wearing a black tux, and she wore a little black dress.

I saw her and the guy fighting. I saw pillows and glasses flew. I saw him holding her tightly and shaking her real hard before he dropped her on the bed and left. She formed a ball of her body on top of her bed as she sobbed hard.

I saw her stopped running. I saw her succumb to depression. She sleeps late, wakes up late, she's not leaving for work and she seldom eats at the right time.

And I started to feel bad about writing about her, and even if the words in my head throbbed around ten in the evening wanting to be typed down. I stopped. I saved the document on my hard drive and closed my laptop.

And as I did close it the light on her condo turned on. The guy was back, but the woman was unmoved. The guy was shouting at her, but she's not budging, she's not moving. And when the first slap landed hard on her cheek, I panicked and in what feels like slow motion I ran out towards the elevator, but the old vehicle hauled slowly so I didn't wait for it, I ran down the stairs and crossed the street.

When I get to the lobby the guy was hurriedly walking out from the elevator, our eyes met for a split second and I knew something happened - something bad I pleaded the security to check on the guy's profile and to check on the woman living in the unit the guy always visited. At first the security was doubtful of my panic. But then they gave in and someone checked on her.

She was brought to the hospital when they found her unconscious in the living room, and because I told them I was her friend they let me visit her, the doctor told me that she's dehydrated, over fatigued and stressed, and a hard object hit her on the back of her head causing a slight concussion.

It was around three in the morning when her mother and sister came. She was still unconscious so I explained what happened, her mother mumbled something about a temporary restraining order for Mike, maybe the guy who hurt her. I learned that her name was indeed Kara, and that she's a journalist. I also learned that she's a daddy's girl and the loss of her father badly affected her emotional state.

Her mother thanked me for being quick to respond, and I can't look at her directly knowing me being able to help Kara was just a product of me watching her daughter like a spy. I countered by saying her daughter has been very good to me and that I did what I had to do. After making sure she's fine, I left. I don't want her to be crept out the moment she opens her eyes and see a stranger amidst her presence.

It has been a week since I last saw her; I learned that her mother took her home so they could make sure that she'll be okay, until she's emotionally stable. It also has been a week since I stopped writing about her.

How can you write about someone who's not there, whom you haven't had any memories with; and it hit me that no matter how much events I saw in her life, through her window, no matter how I smile when she does and how worried I was when she's with Mike, I was still as stranger as she was a stranger to me. And I realized I've never written for a stranger before.

 

"Lena, finish it." Sam said as she read the last chapter I was able to finish before Kara disappeared.

 

"I can't. There's no turning point. Nothing to resolute, nothing to finish."

 

"So are you gonna waste the 24 chapters you've written?"

 

"No, but I don't know how to continue." I confessed.

 

"Since you're working on some weird phenomenon of parallel universe, why don't you let the narrator travel to the other side?"

 

"How?"

 

"By simply opening the door, and crossing the street. That easy. That raw. That real. Think about it. The road between the two building is the warp, until you realize how to use it."

 

"That makes sense."

 

"Of course."

 

That night I opened my laptop and a new document, labeled it chapter 25. I sighed deeply, took a glance on the still dark window in front of me and back to my laptop. Before I tried to reach for the keyboard.

And as I started to type the light on the window in front of me flickered. I stopped typing and just watched. From the light at her foyer, Kara turned all of the lights at her living room on as she put her hand carry on the couch. She looks better now, she looks more like the first time I saw her. I was relieved.

That night too I started to write again, not about her alone, but about us. At least I hope on my novel there will be an us.

 

"Hi." Someone greeted as I was slouched in front of my laptop at the same Starbucks and when I looked.

 

"Hey. Need a seat?" I offered.

 

"No, I mean yes but that's only a part of the reason why I approached you."

 

"Yes?"

 

"I'd like to thank you."

 

"For?"

 

"For helping me that night even though you're not sure about anything, even if you don't know who I am."

 

"Oh."

 

"So you saw us from your window?"

 

"K-kinda, I was smoking a stick out in fire exit ladder, I didn't mean to - -"

 

"No it's okay. I should be thankful you're there." She smiled as she sat in front of me.

 

"I'm just trying to help." I smiled back.

 

That day, we started talking. And finally there was something my father got right about, greater things happen to those who did the waiting no matter how long it takes. It'll eventually come right on the palm of your hands.

Kara is my complete opposite, she only drinks occasionally and she only drinks one glass of wine or two glasses of champagne depending on the occasion because of her low alcohol tolerance, she doesn't smoke, she has a healthy diet and she runs three to four times a week and she strictly sleeps by ten every night.

Through the days we spent together, no one mentioned or motioned to talk about what we are, or what's going on between us. We just let it flow, like blood, like water, like air. Kara would look at me more often than not when we're together, I can see her staring from my peripherals. One day I asked her why she does that all the time we're together, and she just laughed and told me that I am sort of her eye candy. Making me blush like a teenager.

The more time I spend with Kara the less I was able to work on the progress of my novel. I lay low on beer, and started running with her three times a week, resulting to me gradually stopping to smoke, since I couldn't keep up with her when we run.

I pushed the door of my apartment open one night, and I realized how it smelled more like Kara's own unit, her perfume is gently assaulting and it stays even after she left.

There are no more stray beer cans on the corner of my couch and wall. No more ashtray, cigarette and lighter around. The only thing that's not changing around my apartment and me is my insomnia.

Now that Kara's all over me, my brain found another reason not to sleep. My brain would play snippets of memories we have together, the way she smile, the way she roll her eyes at me, the way she wet her lips, the way she stares. And when that happened, I encountered the phrase head over heels.

 

"Fuck." I cursed one rainy night; I was lying flat on my back staring at the ceiling around one in the morning, when I heard a knock on the front door.

 

I walked towards the door and peep on the hole to see who's outside, Kara soaking wet and sobbing.

 

"Kar, what happened?" I asked as soon as I opened the locks and the door.

 

She was shaking, looking like a wet puppy so I pulled her into a hug.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"I- -I dreamt about him again." Kara sobbed

 

"What dream?"

 

"Dad."

 

"Oh. Come inside, let's dry you up." I said as I close the door behind us.

 

Kara was un-resisting when I started removing her clothes; she was terribly weak and shaking.

 

"I'm sorry." She softly said as I was drying her hair.

 

"What for?"

 

"For me being like this some times." She said, I stayed quiet and led her to my room.

 

"You can sleep here, I'll just sleep on the couch." I offered but she shook her head.

 

"Sleep here with me, it's kinda ridiculous for you to sleep on the couch when we have enough room in bed. And besides I need you to hold me, just in case I get those nightmares again. Please Lee?"

 

"Okay." I smiled as I tuck her first under the sheets. I turned off all the lights; only the moon gave us a sense of illumination.

 

Kara buried her face on my chest soon as I lie beside her, and her breasts pressing against me, sparked my deepest most hopeless desire. Her breath was warm against my skin. Then I felt her hand traveled from my back to the buttons of my plaid shirt.

 

"Kar." I gasped as she opened the buttons one by one.

 

"I need you Lee."

 

"Need me?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Why?"

 

"I really really like you." She whispered, as her index finger circled my nipple.

 

"I like you too." I whispered kissing her forehead.

 

Kara easily made her way on top of me, and I realized while she was hungrily kissing me that one of my fantasies came true, a woman barging in my room and submits herself to me. I didn't resist any of her advances, I obliged to her calling. This is what I wanted, but something felt wrong. In spite of that fact nagging on my consciousness my body was giving in to its carnal urges, and the pleasure Kara's fingers are giving me right then and there isn't of much help to my self control.

We made love, in the madness of the night until the early morning, when the pitch black was being slowly replaced by the blues of dawn. It was like we're hungry wolves on the hunt, the only difference we have to the predatory animal and its helpless prey is that, we were both the prey and hunter ourselves and we eat each other alive and the more we ate the hungrier we got. I woke up around noon, tired and with an empty stomach. I rolled out of bed, which is now half empty.

 

"Kar?" I called out but there was no response.

 

I roamed my eyes around, nothing was changed, but there was only one set of clothes strewn on the floor and it was mine. I reached for my phone but there was no message or missed call. I walked towards the kitchen after getting dressed, and made myself a cup of coffee; there was no note either.

I walked back to my room, look over Kara's window but weirdly the heavy navy blue curtains covered the whole unit. I sat on my swivel chair and opened my laptop. And the note I've been looking for was sandwich there. It was Kara's handwriting. The chapter where Mike hit her was left open and there's only one word written on the sheet of paper.

 

_**Voyeur.** _

 

I stared at it for God knows how long. The word stung, mainly because it was from her, but I could never blame her for that. Maybe denying that I wasn't one made me one in the long run. That's when I realized it's now time to write the ending.

 

"Here it is!" Sam beamed as they come in to my new place.

 

"Your second book! _I Found You First_!" Lucy exclaimed as they hugged me one by one.

 

"I already saw it on the shelves of bookstores and online bookstores. Congratulations for the new success." James beamed.

 

"Thank you guys. Thank you all so much for being patient." I sincerely said.

 

"It took you longer to finish but Lena it was great." Sam assured.

 

"And it's readable?" I teased

 

"Certainly!" Lucy thumbed up.

 

"You're sad." James noticed as we sat on the dinning table where I prepared them early dinner and champagne.

 

"You never see her again?"

 

"It's already been six months guys, stop it." I chuckled.

 

"Give her time, maybe she haven't read the ending." Lucy smiled

 

"Let's just celebrate my new book, okay?" I said changing the topic to vanish heavy air that's starting to settle on us.

 

"Yes for insomniacs and voyeurs!" Sam raised a toast and we all laughed.

 

"For insomniacs and voyeurs!" We repeated and clinked our glasses.

 

Do you still want a sneak peek of the ending they're talking about? Here, suit yourself - -

 

      _|And in the end I realized as the narrator, I wasn't really promptly telling her story, I didn't really get to be her savior. I told you my own version of her story. And that I was wrong and I violated a lot of things I shouldn't. And so Kara drifted away from me, slowly, so very slowly and when I tried reaching out to her again there was a glass enclosure surrounding me. Trapping me into my own demise. I wasn't able to save her, but she saved me from myself and for that I apologize. |_

 

That night I get to bed early, when Kara left, she took my insomnia with her. My days dragged slow and fast at the same time making me want to just sleep in. At first my friends thought I was depressed, but I told them no, maybe it was just my body going back to its normal state finally after all those years. Because one you have your heart broken, everything changes, and you are never the same. I was awakened by a late night call, when I looked at my alarm clock it was already two in the morning.

 

"Hello?"

 

"I finished reading it."

 

"Sorry? Who's this?"

 

"Lena."

 

"Kar? Where are you?"

 

"I finished reading it, your book. The ending is shit." She laughed on the other side of the line, and I smiled. I missed her laugh. I missed her so much.

 

"Yeah. I know I'm sorry I didn't do it any justice yes?"

 

"You're right. But you know what? I'm back."

 

"What do you mean? Where are you? I really want to see you Kar."

 

"I really want to see you too."

 

"So where are you now? I'm gonna get you."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"Yes."

 

"You know what? I realized how much you mean to me when I left, how much I missed you and how much you are always going to be a part of me. You are my soul mate Lena. No matter how cryptic you were." Kara teased.

 

"Kara, just tell me where you are right now."

 

"Somewhere in the middle of us, where you left your heart and insomnia."

 

"I'm gonna get you."

 

"You better do."

 

I dropped the call and dashed out of my unit, I waited for the elevator and pushed ground right away as I stepped in. I half ran out of the condominium building, passing by the same Starbucks, crossing the same street. And there she was, standing in front of my old apartment.


End file.
